


The Living Years

by julien (julie)



Series: A Cop and a Mountie [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-01-01
Updated: 1996-01-01
Packaged: 2020-09-26 05:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Fraser is next to useless as an undercover operative - but when there's an unexpected chance to crack open one of Ray's old cases, he just might be the Mountie for the job.





	The Living Years

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** When Ray and Fraser go undercover as car salesmen in the episode PIZZAS AND PROMISES, it soon becomes clear that Fraser is useless at lying. Well, I figured that if he sees lying as a useful law enforcement skill, he’ll have learned to do it better than that by now (and I’m sure Ray gave him a few useful tips along the way). Here’s my version of Fraser undercover… in a story as close in style to an episode as I could make it.
> 
> In fact, I later wrote a Real Script called [A KISS IS STILL A KISS](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430854) based on the adventure plot in this fic… which later evolved into a different fic again, called [STAYING](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21859165). Each of these three pieces stands alone, though.
> 
> The title of this story is borrowed from the song of the same name by MIKE AND THE MECHANICS, and the lyrics provide the music for the climactic action montage.
> 
> **First published:** 1 January 1996 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup

# The Living Years 

♦

Ray figured Francesca should hear it right away, should have her hopes and dreams thwarted sooner rather than later – though her fixation on Constable Benton Fraser was wound so deep in her that a few days one way or the other surely wouldn’t make much difference. The news was going to break her heart and soul no matter when she heard it. A brother shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing. But presumably that’s what brothers were for. Bearing bad tidings. Taking the brunt and the blame. Being the bad guy. Ray Vecchio sighed.

This was one confrontation he would not put off any longer. Their mother was out for the evening with a few assorted relatives, and Ray and Francesca were home alone. It would have to be now. Ray sighed again and tracked his sister through the house.

Francesca was pottering around, making herself a mug of hot chocolate. It probably wasn’t wise to have this conversation in the kitchen – there would be far too many sharp and heavy objects to hand. Ray loitered, hands in his pockets, trying to look casual. After a moment, his sister asked, ‘Would you like a cup?’

‘Ah…’ He would, but it didn’t feel right to accept a favour from a woman who would soon not only want to sever all diplomatic relations, but would also want to kill him.

‘Offer’s only good for ten seconds,’ she said brightly. ‘Tick tick tick…’

‘No, thanks.’

Francesca nodded, gave him an absent-minded smile, and went back to comfortably ignoring him. When she headed for the living room where the television was burbling away, Ray quietly followed her.

‘Do you have a few minutes?’ he asked. ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Sure,’ she said before taking a sip from her mug. ‘If you sit down. You’re making me nervous lurking around up there.’

‘It’s about the Mountie,’ Ray said, sitting in a chair that was close enough to be friendly, but just out of her reach. He looked up to find that he had her full attention for the first time that day.

‘Benton? What about him?’

‘It’s bad news,’ he warned her. ‘You’re not going to like it at all. In fact, I’m worried about how upset you’re going to be.’

Her eyes had narrowed, but she looked more mistrustful of Ray than fearful of his news. ‘What?’

‘Now, I want you to try to remember that none of this was deliberate, none of this was done with the intention of hurting you. I love you, you know that, I love you very much. And the Mountie, he likes you and respects you and wishes you nothing but good.’

Francesca seemed determined to interpret this last sentiment in the most hopeful way possible. ‘He does?’ she asked.

Ray leapt in before wishful thinking could carry her away. ‘Francesca, I’m sorry, but he’s in love, he’s fallen in love with someone else and he’s started a relationship with –’ Ray stumbled over the pronoun. ‘He’s in a relationship now, and it’s serious.’

She was looking stunned, as if it had hit her already but she didn’t yet feel the pain. Her gaze was focused somewhere else, though she was looking in Ray’s direction.

‘I wanted you to know, so you’d be able to put this behind you, and get on with your life. I’m really sorry. I know you care about him, Francesca, and I know this will hurt you, but it’s time to move on –’

‘Who?’ she whispered. A moment of silence weighed heavy. Francesca cleared her throat, assuming Ray hadn’t heard her. ‘Do I know her? Who is it?’

‘Ah, Francesca love, this is going to hurt even more. I’m afraid you’re not going to understand, I’m afraid you’re going to hate him for it.’

‘Just tell me, Ray,’ she said.

Ray looked at his sister, remembering how she’d been when their father died five years ago – strong and defiant and sure, simply wanting to know the truth so she could deal with it. ‘It’s not a woman,’ Ray said as gently as he could. ‘He’s in love with a man.’

Stunned expression starting to slip into confusion, eyes brightening with tears.

‘Francesca, it’s me. He’s in love with me.’

Her gaze abruptly re-focused on her brother. She seemed horrified, betrayed, so damned confused. ‘What? You? I don’t –’

‘I’m sorry, Francesca, I really didn’t want to hurt you. Neither of us meant for it to happen.’

Absolutely furious. She blazed at him, ‘Why the hell not? Didn’t mean for it to happen. That’s trash! He’s worth more than that. Serious, you said it was serious.’

‘Yes, it’s serious.’ He tried to talk quietly, though his ears rang with her loud anger, and he couldn’t quite judge the level of his response. ‘It’s a serious relationship.’

‘Don’t you dare talk about it like it was an accident, then. He’s worth –’ She stopped, staring hard at her brother, as the idea sank further in. ‘He’s worth –’ And she burst into tears, turning away from him, lifting one hand to try to cover her face.

‘I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.’

‘I wouldn’t be!’ she wailed. ‘How can you be sorry? You bastard! I’d be so damned happy I wouldn’t care! I wouldn’t care about breaking your heart!’

Ray watched her, perplexed, and trying to understand her reactions. ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he asked weakly.

‘I don’t want him pitying me,’ she said in threatening tones.

‘He doesn’t pity you, Francesca, but he does care about hurting you.’

‘I know. He cares. God, he cares for everyone, he’s so damned nice. That’s not what I wanted, I wanted more than that. I’d be so damned happy if he loved me.’

‘Yes,’ Ray said, still puzzled. His sister seemed to want reassurance that Ray was happy, or that Fraser was happy, or that Ray knew what Fraser was worth. Perhaps then she could feel that her heart hadn’t been broken for nothing. Carefully, Ray offered, ‘It’s a good relationship, Francesca. I love him dearly. He’s beautiful and he’s worth –’

But Ray was prevented from elaborating by Francesca’s mug connecting with his left eyebrow, and by hot chocolate splattering in his face, pouring down his shirt.

Footsteps pounding up the stairs, and his sister’s bedroom door slamming shut. He followed her and tried to offer some comfort through the heavy wood panels, but she simply yelled, _‘Go away, you bastard!’_ and threw things at the door.

Ray sighed, and apologised again, headed back downstairs, and started cleaning the splashes of hot chocolate off the carpet.

♦

Breakfast the next morning in the Vecchio home was not the most congenial of meals. Ray came down late, already fully dressed, with a black eye and a rotten headache.

‘Raymond!’ his mother cried. ‘What happened to your face?’

Wincing at what felt like a shriek, Ray met Francesca’s full-blooded glare. Not quite game enough to approach closer, Ray hung around just inside the door, keeping the bulk of the table between them. ‘Made an arrest yesterday. He didn’t come quietly.’

His sister had a mug of coffee in her hands, and it seemed she wasn’t afraid to use it. She was staring at Ray, full of hate and disgust, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs with her feet on another, so her knees were bent up against her chest.

‘But, _caro_, I didn’t notice your eye was hurt at dinner yesterday,’ his mother was saying uncertainly.

‘No, I guess it developed overnight.’ Ray asked civilly, ‘How are you, Francesca? How did you sleep?’

‘What do you care?’

Mrs Vecchio looked from her son to her daughter. ‘Now, what are you two arguing about? Francesca, _cara_, you haven’t told me why you’re upset.’

Ray grinned without humour. ‘I guess that means she slept badly.’

‘What’s happened?’ his mother asked, though she sounded as if she knew it was futile. Her children were both alleged adults, after all.

Francesca leaned towards Ray, hunching further into herself. She really didn’t look well or happy, wrapped in her towelling robe, her hair pulled up into a rough knot, baggy old socks on her feet – usually by now she was dressed for success. ‘Shall I tell her?’ Francesca asked with some malice.

With all the sincerity he could find, Ray said, ‘You tell her whatever you need to. Get it all off your chest if you want. I’ll cope with the consequences.’

His sister almost spat at him – ‘Don’t you take the high moral ground with me, you bastard.’

Ray sighed. It seemed his presence would cause far more harm than good this morning. ‘Ma, sorry, I’m really not hungry. I’m heading off for work.’

‘Are you seeing Benton today?’ his mother asked.

‘Yeah,’ Ray said warily, trying not to look at Francesca. He was horribly afraid she was going to start crying again.

‘Say hello for me, won’t you.’

‘Yeah, Ma. See you tonight.’ And Detective Ray Vecchio turned tail and fled.

However, while Ray was still within hearing distance, Francesca casually said, ‘Ma, that trip to Florida to see aunt Maria? I think I will come with you.’

‘Oh, that will be lovely, _cara_.’ So at least one Vecchio was happy this morning.

♦

Constable Benton Fraser stood to attention in his full dress uniform outside the Canadian consulate, ostensibly as oblivious as a statue. What no one could have guessed from his bland yet noble expression was that he was mildly worried.

Ray Vecchio was sitting beside him, perched on a corner of the planter box, looking despondent. Usually, when Ray came to pick him up from standing guard duty, the cop would wander restless along the sidewalk, and talk at him, an endless friendly chat that didn’t ask for or expect any response. Today, however, was a different matter entirely – the man’s manner was alarmingly quiet, and introspective, and unhappy. Nothing else about his appearance indicated what the problem was. As was his habit, Ray was dressed in an astonishingly colourful shirt, that seemed to have not only a life of its own, but also far more self-confidence than Ray himself.

Diefenbaker, as alert to Ray’s moods as the Mountie was, crouched at the cop’s feet. Every now and then the wolf would press his nose into one of Ray’s hands, and the cop would absently stroke the wolf’s head or scratch behind Diefenbaker’s ears.

The clock at last chimed the hour. Four o’clock. As soon as the last echo died away beneath the bustle of Chicago, Fraser stood down, stepped away and turned to his friend. ‘Ray? What’s wrong?’

Apparently Ray hadn’t even noticed the chimes. ‘What? Ah, nothing. Come on, I need to tidy some work up before we go home. All right?’

‘Of course, Ray.’ The pair headed off up the street to Ray’s Riviera, the wolf trotting along behind. Fraser asked, Did you take Mrs Vecchio and Francesca to the airport?’

‘Yeah, they’re on their way to Florida.’

‘Forgive me, Ray, but you seem unhappy, and I had expected you to be relieved. The situation with your sister is a difficult one. I assumed a week apart would be welcome.’

Ray lifted a hand to touch his left eye, to feel the swelling, though he didn’t seem aware of the gesture.

‘Your eye is almost healed,’ Fraser offered. ‘Another day, and the colour will have faded away.’

‘Yeah.’ Ray unlocked the car, and Fraser let Diefenbaker into the back seat before climbing into the front. ‘You know what she said?’ Ray asked once he’d pulled away from the kerb.

‘No, Ray.’

The man’s tones were frustrated, outraged. ‘She told me not to do anything she wouldn’t do. Huh! I guess that means I can fuck you brainless.’ Ray shook his head, still lost in his own thoughts rather than actually communicating with Fraser. ‘In front of Ma – God, I would have blushed if I wasn’t busy strangling her.’

Not commenting on the unexpected crudity, Fraser asked, ‘You strangled your sister at the airport?’

‘Should have.’ He continued glumly, ‘Then she said, _The things you get up to these days, Raymond… Have you been to confession?’_

‘Ah. And have you?’

Ray shrugged. ‘No. I don’t reckon loving you is a sin.’ Silence for another city block. ‘What about you, Benny? You been to confession?’

Fraser considered his friend. Ray’s tones were deceptively casual, and he stared ahead out the windshield, not even glancing at Fraser. Perhaps this was closer to what was bothering the man. ‘No, I haven’t, Ray.’

‘They’re going to tell you it’s a sin, Benny. The Pope’s had a dozen chances to relax his attitude on this, and he won’t. The Roman Catholic Church will tell you that loving me is a sin just because I’m a man.’

‘I know.’

Finally Ray turned to look directly at Fraser. ‘Well, you’re not the sort to fly in the face of authority. What are you going to do?’

‘I’m not going to let the Church come between us, Ray. I cannot believe that God, in His infinite grace, will not forgive us for these transgressions – if he even considers them as such.’

‘Yeah? I guess I figured your faith would be a little more –’

‘Simple? But it is simple, Ray. I do my best to be true to the reason and the heart and the soul God gave me, to make my decisions as if He was making them both for my good and the greater good. Because I do that, I can trust in His mercy and understanding. The Church provides guidance on this earth, and focus, but it cannot replace my own responsibility for my thoughts and actions.’

Ray was staring at him, almost gaping, and glancing occasionally at the slow-moving traffic around them. ‘What can I say? You’re incredible, Benny.’

‘We are all incredible. God made us that way.’ Fraser was rewarded when the cop let out a laugh, and finally relaxed a little. ‘But to return to an earlier topic, I am concerned about you and your family, Ray. It seems that the situation is not improving.’

‘I am being so damned patient, you’d be proud of me,’ Ray Vecchio declared. Then he complained, ‘Which only makes Francesca yell at me for taking the high moral ground.’

Fraser suppressed his amusement at this accusation which might seem so unlikely to anyone else.

‘Ah, we just need to give her time. It’s only three days since I told her, a broken heart takes longer than that to heal. Meanwhile she can hate me all she likes – I’ll still be her brother at the end of it.’

‘You’re a generous man, Ray.’

‘Yeah, right. Must be your influence. Anyway, Ma is weathering it. We never did tell her what we fight about, so she’s used to being in the dark. You were right, Ma and Francesca spending a week in Florida is probably the best thing that could happen right now.’ Diefenbaker chose that moment to lean forward and press his nose into Ray’s neck, rasp his tongue across the cop’s cheek. Ray laughed and batted the wolf away. ‘What – you’ve trained him to do that? He’s the only one of you who can kiss me in public.’

Fraser smiled. ‘He’s happy that you’re happy.’

‘Yeah. Thanks, Dief,’ Ray added, addressing the wolf through the rear vision mirror. They had reached the police station – Ray cruised the block, still driving somewhat over the limit, and smoothly swung the Riviera into a space.

The station was relatively quiet, as the night shift were arriving, and everyone else was winding down and heading home after an uneventful day. Elaine was still there, tapping away at her computer. ‘Hello, Fraser,’ she said with a fond smile. ‘Anything I can do for you this afternoon?’

‘No, thank you kindly,’ Fraser responded as he walked past, following Ray to his desk.

‘What am I – chopped liver?’ Ray was muttering.

Elaine must have heard him, for she called, ‘Hi, Ray,’ though it lacked a certain enthusiasm.

Ray’s colleagues, whom the cop had dubbed Huey and Louie, began their familiar double act. ‘No more rejections from the ladies today, Vecchio?’

‘Pity. You only look like half a raccoon.’

‘You should take tips from the Mountie – _he_ has to fight _them_ off.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Ray was muttering. He sat behind his desk and began aimlessly shifting through a stack of paperwork. Fraser sat in Ray’s visitor’s chair, hat in his hands, considering his friend. It was painful sometimes, watching Ray seek friendship and acceptance, and receive only harassment and dismissal. But Fraser could empathise with the situation – he was familiar enough with not being liked.

‘Do you know this guy?’ It took a moment for Ray and Fraser to realise that Huey was asking a serious question. ‘Fax just came in from Florida. Cops found this guy dead in a park, and they think he lives around here.’

Ray was staring at the facsimile Huey was holding out to him. From where he sat, Fraser could see there was some typed information, a photo, and copies of two driver’s licences. ‘Yeah, I know him. That’s Mark Craven. Petty crim, small time record, but he’s started running deliveries for Angeletti. Mark’s dead?’

‘Got himself stabbed,’ Louie said. ‘Looks like a standard mugging.’

‘You sure? I was working on him, trying to get some information on Angeletti. Maybe they found out.’ Ray seemed reluctant to touch the facsimile, so Fraser took it and began skimming through the information. Neither of the licences were in Mark Craven’s name, while both addresses were in Fraser’s own neighbourhood.

‘Sure, they reckon he was on vacation down there.’ The double act began again.

‘Wrong place at the wrong time.’

‘Random thing. Bad luck all round.’

‘I believe they’re right,’ Fraser added. ‘It doesn’t seem like an execution-style killing, and Mr Angeletti would have wanted to make an example of this young man on his own ground if he knew Mark was talking to you, Ray.’

Louie said, ‘You’ll take care of this one, Vecchio? Let Florida know who he is, notify the kid’s folks, all the usual mess.’

‘Yeah,’ Ray said vaguely, sitting back in his chair. ‘Yeah. Thanks, guys.’

Once they were alone again in their corner of the room, Fraser asked quietly, ‘Are you all right, Ray?’

A moment, and then Ray said, ‘I kind of liked Mark, you know? There was something about him, an energy. Rebellious, though, absolutely determined to be damned. Hanging out with the wrong kind of people, though he was better than that.’

‘I’m sorry, Ray. It doesn’t look like this was your fault, if that’s any comfort.’

‘Yeah.’ The cop sat up straight again, reached for the phone. ‘Thanks, Benny.’

From the facsimile, Fraser read out the phone number for Detective Chong Li in Florida, and listened as Ray talked to her about Mark Craven. There seemed little further information at this stage.

Once Ray hung up, he said, ‘We’d better go tell Mark’s father. His mother died a few years ago.’

‘Have you met the father before?’ Fraser asked, following Ray through the station and back down to the street.

‘No, but I know who he is. Remember I said Mark was rebellious?’

Mr Anthony Craven was a defence lawyer with, judging from the opulence of his offices, a lucrative practice. He kept the detective and the Mountie waiting for fifteen minutes while he finished dealing with a client, having announced over his secretary’s speaker-phone that no personal business could possibly be urgent enough to interfere with a person’s right to professional legal advice.

Ray seemed stunned by this. ‘Doesn’t the man have an imagination?’ he muttered before wandering away.

Fraser sat down and watched Ray pace to and fro across the marble floor of the foyer. The cop was obviously tempted to just burst in, throw the client out, and pass on his news. Perhaps the only thing that restrained him was respect for Mr Craven’s anticipated grief.

At last the client – a woman as opulent as her surroundings – left the office, and the disembodied voice announced, ‘I can give the detective five minutes now.’

‘Great,’ said Ray. ‘Let’s synchronise our watches.’ He led the way through double doors into the main office, cast a glare around at the ostentatious furnishings. ‘I’m Detective Vecchio,’ he said, quickly flashing his credentials. ‘This is Constable Fraser.’

Anthony Craven had been waiting for them, standing in the far corner of the room. He was smoking a thin cigar. ‘If this is personal business, I assume it is about my son. Has he been arrested, Detective?’

Ray was all attitude, slouching there in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. ‘Is that the only time you hear from your son, Mr Craven – when he needs a defence lawyer?’

‘Yes.’

Fraser stepped forward, deciding to save Ray from having to say those most difficult of words. It seemed Ray wasn’t in the mood to deliver them well, in any case. ‘Mr Craven, I’m afraid the news is worse than that.’

‘Did you know Mark went to Florida?’ Ray asked.

‘No, I didn’t know that,’ Craven replied. He took a long thoughtful drag on the cigar, and turned away a little, as if knowing what he would hear next.

‘He was apparently there on vacation,’ Fraser said. ‘Unfortunately he was mugged. Mr Craven, I’m sorry to tell you that Mark is dead.’

Silence. Another drag on the cigarette. ‘How did he die?’

‘Mark was stabbed a number of times, and bled to death. He would have lost consciousness fairly quickly.’

It seemed Ray didn’t think that level of detail was appropriate. He tossed a business card on Craven’s desk. ‘Look, that’s my card if you need me. I’ve written the number on the back for the place that’s taking care of him. You’ll want to make arrangements.’

‘Did you know my son, Detective Vecchio?’ the man asked quietly.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I did.’

‘Then you’ll have realised it was always going to end this way.’

Ray glared at Craven, who perhaps was too far away to notice. ‘No,’ Ray said, his voice hard, ‘I didn’t realise that.’ And he turned and walked out.

Fraser took a short breath. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Craven. If there’s anything we can do, please call.’ He waited a moment, but when this wasn’t acknowledged Fraser left the office, quietly closing the doors behind him. Ray was waiting impatiently by the lifts in the foyer.

As a lift chimed its arrival, Craven’s disembodied voice said, ‘Send in my next client.’

‘That’s lawyers for you,’ Ray muttered. ‘As cold and ruthless as sharks.’

♦

‘What are we looking for, Ray?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ the cop replied, skilfully and no doubt illegally breaking into Mark Craven’s apartment. ‘But I’ll know it when I see it.’

Fraser followed him inside. ‘You think there might be something in here to assist you with Mr Angeletti?’

‘No, I reckon I’ll have to find another way to get to that guy. And I will have to get him, you know. Scum like that give Italians a bad name.’ Ray began wandering around, eyes and hands quickly shifting through Mark’s few possessions. ‘Just call it curiosity.’

Nodding, Fraser followed suit. It was obvious that Mark hadn’t benefited from his father’s money, perhaps by his choice or perhaps by his father’s. All the clutter here was shabby and cheap or old, though comfortable in its own way.

‘There’s no need to tell me,’ Ray muttered morosely in the silence. ‘I was unprofessional back there with his father.’

Fraser looked across at his friend. ‘Yes, you were. However, I understand the emotions behind your behaviour.’

Ray sighed. ‘Sorry.’

‘I don’t believe it’s me you need to apologise to.’

‘God, Fraser, it’s tough living up to your expectations sometimes.’ The grumble didn’t seem particularly heartfelt. Ray was searching through a shoe box full of memorabilia. ‘Look at this, Benny,’ he said, holding out a photo. ‘That’s the Mark Craven I knew, poor bastard.’

Fraser walked over and leaned close to Ray to see the picture. Mark was grinning at them, challenging and happy and irrepressible. He had cropped light brown hair, dark eyes, and a slim face, but wasn’t handsome in any conventional way. Fraser said, ‘I see what you mean about the energy, Ray. It wasn’t obvious in the photo they faxed to us.’

‘Christ, I should think not – that was taken in the morgue!’

‘I am aware of that,’ Fraser said. He’d found a loose scrap of paper tucked inside a well-read novel, which listed several numbers – he now held it out to Ray. ‘Does this mean anything to you?’

The cop frowned over the list. ‘They look like dates, don’t they? Or chapter and verse references from the Bible. Hell, Benny – the middle one. If that’s February sixteenth, I know it’s the last time Mark did a delivery run for Angeletti.’

‘I see. What exactly do these deliveries involve?’

‘Guns, from here over the border to somewhere in Canada. I think they get shipped out all over the world from there.’

‘Then, Ray, we know when Mark was due to make the next delivery. March the twentieth. That’s just over two weeks away.’

‘Yeah…’

Shifting so he could look directly at Ray, Fraser said very carefully, ‘There must be some way of taking advantage of this.’

Ray was nodding, mind apparently racing with possibilities. After a moment, he pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. ‘What was that number in Florida?’ As Fraser recited it from memory, Ray tapped it in. ‘Detective Li? This is Ray Vecchio in Chicago. Any chance of keeping a lid on Mark Craven’s death for a couple of weeks?’

Fraser listened as Ray and Chong Li talked the situation through. The police in Florida had notified the local papers that a fatal mugging had taken place, but hadn’t provided any further details pending identification of the victim – there seemed no reason to tell the press anything more for now, while issuing another general warning about the park where it happened in case this wasn’t an isolated incident. The investigation, which unfortunately didn’t seem promising at this early stage, shouldn’t be hampered by the need for subtlety. The pair of detectives soon reached an agreement.

‘That’s covered,’ Ray said, slipping the phone back into his coat pocket. ‘Now I just need to go eat a few serves of humble pie.’

The offices of Mr Anthony Craven were quiet and dark when the cop and the Mountie returned. The secretary had apparently packed up and left, but the doors were still wide open. Ray walked cautiously through the foyer, and approached the double doors to the main office, Fraser following. ‘Mr Craven?’

‘Detective Vecchio.’ The small desk lamp was turned on to reveal Craven sitting there smoking another cigar. ‘Constable Fraser. What is it?’

‘I came to apologise, Mr Craven, for my unprofessional behaviour this afternoon. It wouldn’t have been right at the best of times, let alone –’

‘What did you really want?’

Ray sighed and hung his head for a moment. ‘I need to ask a favour of you. For Mark’s sake, if not for mine.’

‘My son didn’t like me doing anything for his sake, Detective Vecchio.’

There wasn’t anything to say to that. Ray apparently decided to launch into his request. ‘Mark was mixed up with some heavy duty crime, running guns across the border to Canada –’

‘I see. Does that explain the RCMP’s interest in this situation?’

Fraser looked up. ‘I was originally involved through my friendship with Detective Vecchio, but of course I have another interest as well now.’

Ray continued, ‘I don’t think anyone in Chicago knows that Mark is dead, Mr Craven. I’m not sure how yet, but if we can keep it that way I think we might be able to take advantage of the situation. I want to end this business, and I’ll do anything it takes. But we need your co-operation…’

A long moment before Craven nodded. ‘There are no close family members to take into consideration. Do whatever you need to do to clean up this mess he got into.’

‘Thank you, Mr Craven,’ Ray said. ‘I appreciate it. It’ll all be over in less than three weeks, one way or another.’

The man nodded again. ‘I don’t need to know any more details for now,’ he said, dismissing them.

Fraser said, ‘In the meantime, we could arrange to have Mark brought back here discreetly as a John Doe. Would that be acceptable to you?’

‘Yes, it would.’

‘Good night, Mr Craven,’ Ray said. ‘Thank you again.’ And Fraser followed Ray back to the lifts. ‘All right,’ Ray muttered, deep in thought. ‘Now all we need is a plan.’

♦

Fraser lay awake late that night with Ray Vecchio held deep in his arms. For the first time they were in a proper bed rather than Fraser’s narrow cot, and yet they lay together as closely as ever. It seemed to be of choice rather than necessity. This was the eighth night since he and Ray had become lovers – not counting their initial encounter over three weeks ago – and it was the first of those nights that they hadn’t made love.

Ray seemed to be miles away, and either unable or unwilling to sleep. ‘Is something wrong?’ Fraser asked him in a whisper.

‘No, no,’ Ray immediately responded.

‘Are you grieving for Mark Craven? Or thinking about the Angeletti case? Or worrying about your mother and sister?’

‘I guess all of the above.’ But Ray’s tone held a hint of amusement.

‘I don’t pretend to thoroughly know you, Ray, and I probably never will, but you have surprised me a few times today. Here we are, taking advantage of yet another situation –’

‘Ma and Francesca being away,’ Ray supplied. 

‘– and sleeping the night together in your bed. I thought you had plans.’

‘I did… It’s really good to have you here, Benny, it means so much. And, yeah, there’re things we can do in a king size bed that we can’t do on yours. I’m tired of falling onto your floor – though it’s no harder than the bed, I suppose!’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Fraser agreed. He shifted up onto an elbow, and leaned down to kiss Ray.

As always, Ray seemed to love this sweet easy act, seemed to lose himself in a reverie, something of awe in him. Fraser had been surprised to find that a man of far greater experience than him would be satisfied with this simplicity. Every time they had made love so far, they had kept to kissing and cuddling for inspiration, mutual masturbation for satisfaction, usually followed by further snuggling and lazy kissing for communion. While they had done all that in a number of different situations – and with enticing variations in mood and pace – the fact remained that Fraser had expected Ray to want more, far more, perhaps sooner than the Mountie might best deal with it. And Fraser himself was interested in exploring the notion of taking the cuddling further into what he believed was termed frottage.

‘Ray,’ Fraser said once his friend was paying a little more attention. ‘What were your plans?’ 

‘Ah, Benny, I don’t want to shock you.’

‘It’s all right,’ Fraser murmured, nuzzling into Ray’s throat. ‘If you do, I’ll have years to get over it.’ 

‘Yeah?’ The cop seemed rather impressed by what the Mountie was doing. ‘I hope Dief didn’t teach you that…’ Fraser ignored the suggestion. Ray asked, ‘Where _is_ the wolf?’

‘I asked him to stay downstairs.’ A while of quietly provoking Ray, before Fraser declared, ‘Shock me all you like, Ray Vecchio – I’ll still be your lover at the end of it.’

A laugh then, and a heartfelt hug, and an increase in enthusiasm. Ray’s lean body felt so good moving strong and wriggling restless against Fraser’s stockier frame. Further kissing and cuddling were indulged in, the two of them creating endless variations on this pleasant theme. They began to roll back and forth, using the width and generosity of Ray’s bed to mime taking charge and then surrendering, to investigate all the delights of skin urging skin.

Fraser was beginning to suspect he might achieve his goal by default rather than by design, when Ray abruptly changed tracks. ‘Don’t expect this is shocking,’ the cop mumbled as he kicked away the last of the sheets and quilts, ‘but I’ve been wanting it. No,’ he added as Fraser instinctively began to follow him, ‘you just lie back there.’ Ray’s mouth moved down Fraser’s torso, trailing full though hurried kisses. ‘Ah, Benny, I’ve been wanting to taste you.’

Incredible, then, the pleasure blossoming within him, not only throughout his body but in his mind and his heart and his soul. Fraser cried out in surprise, tried to surface.

‘No, lover,’ Ray said. In the absence of his mouth, the cop’s hands continued a gentle rhythmic massage, soothing and promising. ‘You lie back and let this happen. You let me make you feel as good as you make me feel every damned time. Do that for me, Benny.’

Fraser let out a breath, and lay back again, unable to find the words for consent. Apparently not needing them – no doubt able to read them in Fraser’s demeanour – Ray bent his head, and the intensity began again. Warmth within and without, and a thousand colours of red, and poppies unfolding petals in all their bright fragility, and blessed love – that and more. Fraser moaned a protest, but he was lost, just like Ray said he wanted, until Fraser at last reached the summit and fell spinning back down.

‘All right, lover?’ Ray was asking. Fraser gathered him up close for a hug, a long shuddering blind seeking for comfort, and then the Mountie pushed away. The cop repeated, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’ And Fraser proceeded to devastate Ray in the same fashion. New to this, he took it slowly, which seemed an effective tactic in any case.

‘God,’ Ray was groaning, ‘you’re a quick learner. Or you have one Hell of an imagination.’ He seemed to want to maintain verbal contact through this experience. ‘Did anyone ever tell you…? You can do amazing things with your tongue.’ A long while later, sounding as if he was close to the very heart of it, Ray whispered, ‘I don’t deserve you, Benny, I’m not good enough for you.’ Completion shook through him, and he sobbed out his relief.

Fraser took the man deep into his arms, murmuring reassurance, speaking his love, until Ray at last fell asleep.

♦

The phone rang the next morning just as Ray had taken a large bite of toast. He munched for a moment, hampered by a laugh, picked up the receiver and said, ‘Hello,’ as well as he was able.

‘Hello, Raymond. How are you, _caro_?’

Ray quickly swallowed down the toast, almost choking on it, the laugh escaping him. Fraser was watching him with concern from the other side of the kitchen table, though he seemed to realise the need to stay quiet. ‘Ma! I’m fine – how are you? You arrived safely?’ And he gulped down some coffee, though it was still too hot.

‘Yes, _caro_. You sound happy this morning.’

‘Ah. Do I?’ Ray grimaced his panic at the Mountie, wondering what he could attribute this to. ‘As of yesterday afternoon, I’m working on a big case,’ he said. ‘I think we might do some good with this one.’

‘That’s wonderful, Raymond, but you take care, do you hear me?’

‘Yes, Ma.’

‘I wish your sister was sounding half as happy.’

Ray grimaced at Fraser again, not receiving any sympathy or encouragement from the fellow’s reserved expression. ‘I’m sorry, Ma. How is she?’

‘There’s a terrible stomach bug going around Miami, and Francesca has woken up this morning feeling quite miserable. I’m worried about her.’

‘She can’t have caught it already,’ Ray protested. ‘You only got there yesterday.’

‘You say a prayer for her, Raymond, you pray that she finds some happiness as well.’

‘Yes, all right. And you be careful, too – people get mugged down there. Stay where the crowds are.’ Ray smiled as his mother ended the conversation. ‘Yeah, I love you, too, Ma.’ He hung up and looked across the table at his lover. ‘I guess you heard all that. I almost got caught – sounding happy at breakfast, it’s absolutely unheard of.’

‘I’m glad you are happy, Ray.’

‘Well, you should be, because you have everything to do with it.’ Ray grinned at the fellow, tried waggling a suggestive eyebrow to provoke a reaction. ‘You were quite something last night.’

Fraser nodded thoughtfully. ‘And so were you.’ He asked, ‘Is Francesca ill?’

‘Yeah. Miserable, and thinks she’s caught some bug going around down there.’ Ray sighed. ‘This week is for us, lover, all right? Let’s just be selfish and happy for a while.’

A moment before Fraser agreed to this with the slightest of nods.

‘Anyway,’ Ray announced, feeling pleased with himself, ‘I think I have a plan.’

♦

‘You have got to be kidding, Vecchio.’ 

‘Hear me out, sir,’ Ray said, ignoring Huey and Louie’s laughter. He glanced at Fraser who sat there on a chair in the Lieutenant’s office, hat in his hands, bland yet earnest expression on his face. ‘I admit some of the details need filling in, but if you look at the big picture it all works together.’

‘No,’ the Lieutenant said. ‘How many ways do I have to tell you? No.’

‘Why not? Angeletti has been getting away with this for far too long.’

‘Yes, he has.’

‘Then why not?’

‘Because,’ the Lieutenant said very slowly, ‘your plan relies on an impossibility.’ He leaned forward, hands on his desk. ‘Why do I even have to spell this out?’ And he said, very deliberately, as if Ray was five years old, ‘The Mountie cannot do undercover work.’

Laughter again, from all but Ray and Fraser. Apparently this was the funniest thing they’d heard in years. ‘Face it, Vecchio,’ said Louie, ‘the guy couldn’t lie to save his soul.’

‘Well, actually,’ the Mountie offered, ‘lying in an attempt to save your soul seems the most futile of endeavours.’

‘What about that time Fraser and I worked undercover as used car salesmen?’

The Lieutenant said, ‘Yeah, wasn’t that a disaster?’

‘We made the arrests!’ Ray waited for the unbridled amusement to die down. And then he asked, in his own deliberate tones, ‘After all he’s done for us, are you telling me that you think Benton Fraser isn’t the most professional law enforcement officer in this city?’

That shamed them into silence.

Taking advantage of the moment, Ray asked, ‘And who else could we use, anyway? Angeletti’s so familiar with us he knows our mothers’ maiden names. This will work. We’ve already checked with the consulate, and they’ve agreed to release him to us for a couple of weeks –’

‘Hold on, Vecchio,’ the Lieutenant interrupted. ‘He might be fine working the normal cases, but how is he going to tell enough lies to maintain a believable cover?’

‘I can lie, sir,’ Fraser said, sounding like the concerned innocent he was. ‘If I have to. I consider arresting Mr Angeletti to be sufficient incentive.’

‘God, listen to him, Vecchio. He’s too damned polite, not to mention the fact he uses all those big words. Angeletti isn’t going to believe him for a moment.’

‘Plausible distraction,’ Ray said, feeling like he might at last make some ground. ‘In undercover work we were taught that any suspicion can be diverted onto a plausible distraction. Angeletti will be so busy wondering at how nice Fraser is, he won’t be looking for anything else to explain his odd behaviour.’

Silence. Perhaps they were considering this.

Ray continued, ‘Fraser might be instinctively honest, Lieutenant, but he also has one Hell of a memory. How many of the rest of us could keep track of all the lies even half as well?’ 

The Lieutenant shrugged. 

‘All right, then,’ Ray said. ‘We’ll set it up.’

‘Under protest, Vecchio. If this goes wrong, you’re taking the fall.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Ray said, grinning, ‘but that really won’t be necessary.’ And he led Fraser out of the office. ‘We’re on, Benny. Not Benny – John. Johnny Benedict. You have to get used to the new name. Like, if someone says John from across the other side of the room, _you_ have to respond.’

‘I understand, Ray. I have done training similar to yours.’ Luckily Fraser waited until they were back at Ray’s desk, and well out of earshot, before asking, ‘Who are my parents?’

‘What?’

‘As John Benedict, I need to know who my parents are. It’s vital background information.’

Ray let out a little groan, leaning back in his chair. ‘Angeletti is not going to ask you about your parents, for God’s sake. Please tell me you have the basics, Benny, like we already decided. Go through them for me.’

‘I was born in Thunder Bay, Ontario in 1962, but I moved to the United States in 1980. I served in the armed forces for one tour of duty, and have taken a variety of employment since then, often labouring in construction or on the land, moving from town to town. Do you believe that adequately explains my state of physical health, Ray?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘I like to supplement my income, and take extended breaks from legitimate employment, so I indulge in petty crime of one sort or another. I have been arrested for breaking and entering twice, and for assault, though I have no convictions. I met Mark Craven when I moved to Chicago, and we have become friends. Ray, what is the basis of that friendship?’

Another groan. ‘You’re not going for an Academy Award here, Fraser.’

Elaine wandered over, looking worried. ‘I just heard. Tell me you’re not sending him undercover…’

‘Yes, I am, and he is going to be magnificent. I don’t know why you all doubt him.’

She frowned at the Mountie, and then at the cop. ‘I don’t, but it’s damned dangerous. You’d better take good care of him, Ray Vecchio. He’s worth ten of the rest of you.’

‘I know that,’ Ray said in exasperation. ‘I know that better than you do, all right?’ He caught Fraser looking at him with a warning and a denial in his eye. ‘Look, it’s going to be fine.’ Ray took a deep breath, and said it again for luck – ‘It’s going to be fine.’

♦

In civilian clothes, Benton Fraser walked into a downtown delicatessen, breathed in the abundant fragrance of the produce, and said to the young man behind the counter, ‘Good afternoon. I’m looking for Mr Angeletti.’

‘Yeah? Well, if you want to take your life in your hands, that’s him up the back with his goons.’

‘Thank you kindly.’ Fraser cast a glance about the place as he walked the length of the serving counter. A couple of teenagers were sitting in the booths that lined the wall to his right – they appeared to be regular people. The room opened out from there, and contained a number of tables and chairs which carried an air of neglect, and a few stacks of boxes. There was a door in the far wall, though it wasn’t evident where this led.

And there was Angeletti sitting at a table in the near corner, surrounded by three men who fit the general description of goon and who were all armed. One of them stood as Fraser approached, apparently intending to menace.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Angeletti,’ Fraser said. Silence for a moment, and then one of the goons said, ‘Who the Hell are you?’

‘My name is John Benedict. I’m a friend of Mark Craven’s – I believe you already know Mark quite well.’

‘What do you want?’

Fraser addressed himself to Angeletti, though the man had yet to speak or even react to him. ‘I have three items of business for you today, Mr Angeletti. The first is to pass on a message from Mark. Were you aware that he went to Florida for a vacation? Unfortunately he has caught a stomach virus that is doing the rounds down there, and he is too ill to return to Chicago.’

‘Like we’re supposed to care?’ the goon commented.

‘Yes. I believe he had a commitment to do some work for you on March the twentieth. Mark is not going to be able to make that.’ 

Fraser waited patiently through a silence.

At last the goon asked, ‘Why should we believe you?’

‘No reason at all,’ Fraser said, light and reasonable. ‘I suppose I could try to get a note from his mother…’

That went down like a lead balloon. ‘Craven doesn’t have a mother.’

Fraser smiled, and cocked an eyebrow at Angeletti, sharing the humour and a sense of superiority with the man.

Angeletti finally spoke. ‘He’s joking, you fool.’

‘Which brings me to my second piece of business,’ Fraser said. ‘I would like to offer my services in Mark’s absence. Neither of us wish his illness to inconvenience you.’

‘Why should I trust you?’ Angeletti said. ‘I don’t know who you are.’

‘Mark trusts me – why else would he have told me about his work for you? He makes deliveries on your behalf, doesn’t he? From here to somewhere in Canada, though he didn’t tell me where exactly. The last trip he made was on February the sixteenth. How else could I know all this?’

The Italian stared at Fraser for long moments. Angeletti was a large man, expensively dressed in subtle colours, with a dark complexion and a thick head of hair. There was an air about him that meant he was used to the world working the way he told it to. ‘Frisk him,’ he said to the goon who was still standing.

Fraser slipped off his jacket and lifted his arms, not protesting as the man ran brisk hands over him. The goon didn’t find the wire Fraser had carefully sewn along a seam of his checked flannel shirt, or the transmitter that rested between his belt buckle and his jeans. ‘He’s clean,’ the goon announced.

‘Sit down,’ said Angeletti. ‘If you know so much about me and my business, why did you come here? You’re a brave man – what’s your name?’

‘John. John Benedict. I came here because I thought you and I could help each other. I can make your delivery for you, given that Mark cannot. And then there’s my third piece of business, Mr Angeletti – I want to buy some supplies from you.’

‘Do you? What kind of supplies?’

‘Mark tells me you deal in weapons and ammunition.’

‘Really.’ Angeletti was considering him again, clearly puzzled by Fraser and all that he knew. ‘Who are you, Benedict? Where are you from?’

‘Well, I was born in Ontario – Thunder Bay, if you know the area. I came to the States and enlisted in the army when I was eighteen. Since then, I’ve been wandering, picking up whatever’s available.’ Fraser shrugged. ‘What do you want to know? What’s going to convince you that I’m sincere?’

‘That’s the problem, Benedict. We’re not used to sincerity around here.’

‘I’m sorry. I was brought up that way.’ 

‘Do you have a record?’

‘I’ve been arrested three times, but not convicted. Two of those times, I moved on, and I assume the warrants are still outstanding.’

‘Your folks must be real disappointed with you,’ Angeletti said.

Fraser didn’t let his gaze falter. Quietly, he replied, ‘Yes, sir, I believe they are. But I don’t see them anymore, so I guess we all just try to forget about that.’

More consideration from the man. ‘I still don’t see why I should trust you, Benedict. You’re too clean cut, aren’t you? And courteous – I wish everyone I dealt with talked to me with such respect.’

One of the goons laughed, and then realised his boss wasn’t joking.

Fraser didn’t share any amusement or superiority this time – he simply sat there waiting for Angeletti’s verdict. When it wasn’t forthcoming, Fraser said, ‘You’re right. You’ve found me out.’ And he announced, ‘Actually, I’m a Canadian Mountie.’

Angeletti just watched him, waiting for the punch line.

‘If you prove to be a reliable supplier, Mr Angeletti, I’d like to buy a whole arsenal from you. We Mounties plan to infiltrate and occupy the United States, you see.’

‘An ambitious plan.’

‘Well, perhaps not the entire country,’ Fraser said, glancing away for a moment. He met the man’s gaze again with a smile. ‘Once we’re in a position to negotiate, we may settle for one state. Florida sounds nice. Mark tells me it’s lovely and warm.’

Angeletti let out a laugh, a good long belly laugh. ‘I still don’t know who you are, Benedict, but you are a brave and arrogant man.’

‘Thank you kindly, Mr Angeletti.’

‘Explain one more thing to me. What do you see in Mark Craven? You’re quite something, Benedict, you really are. That little rat Craven must adore you, but surely he isn’t up to your usual speed.’

‘Mark is a friend.’ Fraser spoke firmly, though he was unsure of what Angeletti was implying.

‘Don’t play stupid with me, Benedict,’ the man responded with the first touch of anger he’d shown. ‘I know Craven is queer, and I know his father doesn’t know. I also know that Craven would have warned you I know.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Fraser whispered. He supposed that under the circumstances Angeletti would expect Benedict to be uncertain, off balance after having his secret thrown in his face.

‘I always figured you queers would do it with anyone who’d have you,’ Angeletti said, belligerent and fascinated all at once. ‘But you could do better than Craven, Benedict, a good-looking man like you. What are you with him for? What’s the attraction?’

‘Well,’ Fraser said slowly, ‘Mark might not be the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, Mr Angeletti, but he has an energy that I like. He has a determination and an enthusiasm. And he’s quite doomed, which is kind of attractive, seeing as his father is as disappointed with him as mine is with me.’ Fraser re-focused on the man opposite him, deciding it was time Benedict found his footing again. ‘Besides,’ he said, ‘Mark can do amazing things with his tongue.’

One of the goons looked ill, another one tried to suppress a fit of laughter, and the third looked as disgustedly fascinated as his boss. Fraser turned a smile on them all.

♦

Footsteps approaching in the hall, the Mountie’s firm and even tread. The cop and the wolf, both waiting in the shadows of Fraser’s apartment, sighed. ‘Benny,’ Ray declared as soon as he caught sight of his lover, ‘I am going to kill you, if they don’t first.’

‘Ah.’ Fraser closed the door of his apartment behind him. ‘Good evening, Ray. I didn’t realise you would be visiting. Is this safe?’

‘_You’re_ asking _me_ whether this is safe? Do you know the kind of things you were saying in there?’

The Mountie slid off his leather jacket, scratched the wolf behind his ears, and fetched himself a glass of water, apparently lost in thoughts or memories.

Ray watched him, while leaning back against the wall because he honestly thought he might collapse if he didn’t. ‘Anyway, where have you been? It’s been hours. I didn’t know what to do, where to look for you.’

‘I thought they might follow me. I went to Mark’s apartment, left by the fire escape, and then I walked for several miles, and took various trips on public transport, before returning here. I confess that I also wanted time to think.’ Fraser considered Ray for a moment – he obviously read the cop’s mingled fear and anger writ large. The Mountie cleared his throat, and said, ‘May I remind you that this undercover work was your idea?’

‘Then, more fool me. I had no damned idea how well you’d play along. You’ve really learned how to lie, haven’t you? My God, I was sitting there in the truck with the sound guys… _Actually, I’m a Canadian Mountie,_ he says. I almost died.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ Ray repeated, in sarcastic tones, ‘_Florida sounds nice._ But you know what my favourite bit was? I bet you can guess. _Besides, Mark can do amazing things with his tongue…_ Benny, for God’s sake. I didn’t know what to do with those guys there. I mean, I said that to you in the middle of —’

‘I am sorry, but it worked, Ray. Well, you heard as much. Mr Angeletti is letting me do Mark’s delivery run. I believe he’s testing me, and ensuring my complicity in his business, before deciding whether to sell me the weapons I expressed an interest in.’

‘God, Benny, come over here.’ Ray gazed at the man as he walked closer. ‘You scared me, lover.’

The Mountie nodded, and put down the glass. He stood maybe two feet from where Ray was supporting himself against the wall. ‘Everything’s all right now,’ Fraser whispered.

Ignoring the reassurance, Ray declared, ‘You look so damned good in those jeans, I need to get you out of them…’ He belatedly thought to ask, ‘Is that wire still on?’

‘No. No, the wire is not transmitting.’ And then the Mountie stepped up to the cop, and pressed himself relentless against Ray, and they kissed. Passionately.

It seemed that their moods coincided. The heat generated must have been incredible. Ray loved it, being caught between the hardness of the wall and the hard demanding need of Benton Fraser. Ravenous mouths barely parting, hands impatiently pushing and pulling aside the necessary clothing.

Diefenbaker growled, sounding more inquiring than threatening.

Fraser lifted his head, said thickly, ‘It’s all right, Dief. Let us have a few minutes.’

Ray was vaguely aware that the wolf turned his back and headed for the other room. His mouth meshed again with Fraser’s, and they were jerking each other off, fear and relief and love sending them both rough and needy. Moments only (not minutes) and completion mingled wet splashing on stomachs and shirts and trousers, jeans, hands. Kissing still, though quieting, and Fraser drawing Ray off the wall and into an embrace.

‘Yeah,’ Ray Vecchio breathed when his mouth was freed. ‘Yeah, I knew this would work out, I knew you and me were good together.’ He smiled. ‘You’re as highly sexed as an Italian.’

Fraser didn’t bother to deny this. He smiled, too, though he seemed a little sad – and he pressed a kiss to Ray’s temple, then began rearranging his clothes.

The Mountie made dinner for three, while the cop and the wolf watched him. Stirring a pan of roiling pasta, Fraser asked, ‘Did you know that Mark was gay?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Ray replied. ‘No reason not to believe it, though, except he didn’t seem the sort to make a secret of it. Hell,’ Ray added with a shrug, ‘maybe he just didn’t fancy me. That’s not hard to figure. But I bet Mark wouldn’t have minded his father knowing, and the more it annoyed him the better.’

‘I thought that, too. Perhaps Mr Angeletti was misled in believing he had a hold over Mark.’

They ate dinner in companionable silence, the wolf on the floor and the men sitting at the tiny table. The quiet stretched on in the darkness, undisturbed by the city ever-flowing past outside.

Surely it was late, the night was old in that odd mellow way, and it felt like morning was another place entirely that they need never visit. Ray murmured, ‘The house is empty without you.’

The wolf was apparently asleep. From the other side of the table, the Mountie said quietly, ‘But your family have returned.’

‘I know. I picked them up from the airport, and we got back home in time for dinner last night, and everyone came over to welcome them back. Italians everywhere, but the place felt empty again.’

A moment before Fraser admitted, This apartment doesn’t feel quite like home anymore.’

‘I missed you, my bed was empty on my own. Ma wanted to know where you were. Francesca, well, she just sort of glared at me some more.’

‘How is your sister?’ Fraser asked, with polite though genuine concern.

‘She’s recovered from that bug, but she’s still unhappy with me. More miserable than angry now – I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I try not to talk about you, for her sake, but you know how hard that is? You’re my main topic of conversation these days. If it wouldn’t drive Francesca crazy, I’d ask Ma if you could come live with us.’

The Mountie looked at the cop in surprise. ‘Do you mean you would tell her the nature of our relationship? And we would live together as lovers in your home?’

‘Yeah,’ Ray said, sighing. ‘Be nice, wouldn’t it? Except for Francesca, of course. She’d kill us. As for Ma, she adores you.’

Fraser cleared his throat, and leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table. ‘I have no doubt that your mother is fond of me, Ray, as she is generous in her affections, but she remains ignorant of exactly what I do with her son. Also, our relationship precludes other options which I’m sure she’d prefer for you.’

Ray chuckled. ‘Well, you know, miracles happen in that house. The last five years, since my father died, we’ve made it our own. He was a rotten father, Benny, and a terrible husband. The only thing he could do well was play pool.’ A sobering sigh. ‘He left all these debts behind, we thought we’d lose the house, it was pretty rough for a while. But Francesca and I worked hard to pay it all off, and Ma took such good care of us. We had a fresh start as a family. His shadow’s still there, you know what I mean? But it wouldn’t be right for any of us to move out – it _would_ be good for you to move in. I’d love to live with you, Benny. You think you could cope with us?’

The Mountie clasped the cop’s hands in his own. ‘I’d love to live with you, too, Ray. I’d love to try coping with you all, and being part of a family again, but I don’t think it’s possible for now.’

‘I know.’ And they sat like that for a while, sharing silent reassurance, before Ray left to go home.

♦

It was midnight of a tiresomely long Friday. Benton Fraser was driving a Winnebago full of wooden crates, each containing a variety of carefully packed guns. He had left Chicago early that afternoon, and was now cruising carefully through the outskirts of Toronto – the familiar disorienting in the rain, strange in the dark, streetlights reflecting off the asphalt.

The Mountie had been given a cell phone that could only receive calls, so he’d called Ray from a pay phone along the way to let the cop know he was heading for Toronto. More than that Fraser was not aware of – and even this destination might change without warning. Nothing else that day had turned out quite the way he was expecting. He had been told, for instance, that the Winnebago would be loaded and ready to go by ten that morning, and instead he didn’t get away until two. Presumably Angeletti wanted Benedict as confused as possible, and unable to plan any mischief.

Unsure of whether to wait for instructions or continue, Fraser drove steadily on at three kilometres per hour below the speed limit, passing through quiet suburbs and industrial areas, until at last the phone rang. He pressed the call button, and said, ‘Hello.’

‘Where are you, Benedict?’

Fraser didn’t recognise the voice. ‘I am within the outer limits of Toronto. Who am I speaking to?’

‘You’re here already?’

‘Yes. Am I ahead of your schedule? Mr Angeletti suggested that I shouldn’t stop more than necessary.’

‘He also told you not to speed. Last thing we need is a ticket or a nosy cop.’

‘I haven’t been speeding, but I did read the van’s manual, and I have been driving at optimal conditions.’

‘I’ve heard about you, and they’re right – you’re a fucking freak, Benedict. There’s a gas station on Forty-Third and Orleans. You’ll be met there. Any delays, and you’re a dead fucking freak, OK?’

‘I understand,’ Fraser said, not overly perturbed by the flatly delivered threat. He turned the phone off once he heard the dial tone. Of course, if he’d known a location more specific than Toronto, he and Ray would have arranged for a few arrests here. Under the circumstances, the plan was for Fraser to deliver the guns and receive the related payment, return to Chicago, hand the incriminating payment over to Angeletti, and then make the arrests. Fraser let out a sigh, glad he was at least half-way through this business.

Seeing the gas station, Fraser pulled the van over to the side of the street. A man was waiting on the sidewalk, and another lurked behind a parked car. No doubt both were armed. Fraser got out of the Winnebago, moving warily, though the man beckoned him impatiently. ‘Hello,’ Fraser said. ‘You’re waiting for the delivery from Mr Angeletti?’

‘Come and have a coffee, Benedict,’ the man said. ‘That’s a fucking long drive.’

From the voice and the profanity, this was the man who’d last phoned him. While it sounded more like an order than a request or offer, Fraser said, ‘I’d rather we just unloaded the van, so I can get some sleep –’

‘Shut up, and come have a coffee.’

Fraser watched as the second man climbed into the van and drove it off. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, letting his confusion show.

‘What’s it to you?’

‘Well, I suppose it’s of little significance,’ Fraser said, ‘but I was told I’d be unloading this myself, and receiving the payment for it.’ He followed the man into the cafe beside the gas station. ‘Strictly speaking, it was implied rather than stated. I should be expecting the unexpected by now.’

‘Yeah,’ his companion agreed as they slid into a booth.

Fraser asked, ‘May I know your name?’ 

‘You can call me Bob.’

‘Thank you. Bob, I get the impression that Mr Angeletti still doesn’t trust me.’

The man, whose name may or may not be Bob, stared at him for a moment. ‘Well, fuck me,’ he commented sarcastically. ‘I hope your feelings aren’t hurt, freak.’

‘Only mildly,’ Fraser said. ‘I suppose any new recruit goes through this kind of process – an initiation, or a test. Many close-knit groups and communities do the same.’ He sat back, keeping his expression bland, figuring that he’d locate a motel nearby and check in for the night. Then he could scout around and try to find the place the other man had taken the Winnebago. Surely it was in the immediate area.

Fraser’s companion had barely finished his coffee by the time the van returned just on nineteen minutes later. That meant the delivery had been made within a very few blocks of the gas station.

‘Come on,’ Bob said to Fraser, and he led the way out to the Winnebago. And then Bob climbed inside and sat in the driver’s seat.

‘Yes, I’ll be all right on my own,’ Fraser said, standing on the sidewalk with the second man hovering behind him. ‘I’ll find a motel and –’

‘No, we’re heading back to Chicago.’ A moment’s silence, then Bob said, ‘_Now,_ Benedict.’

Fraser climbed in, and sat in the passenger’s seat. ‘It’s been a long day. I’m in no condition to drive safely.’

‘So shut up, go to sleep, and I’ll drive.’

It seemed Fraser had little choice in the matter. He leaned back, and tried to appear comfortable, as the man pulled the van out onto the quiet street. ‘Expect the unexpected,’ Fraser murmured. ‘Mr Angeletti said he’d be waiting for me to return tomorrow evening – I mean, of course, _this_ evening.’

‘You haven’t figured it out yet, freak? He’s waiting for us this morning. We should be in Chicago by eleven.’

‘I see.’ No doubt this change to the plans was nothing to worry about. Angeletti didn’t trust him, that was all. Surely the worst that could happen was that Fraser would need to go find Ray, and they would arrest Angeletti later in the day – rather than taking him red-handed on Fraser’s return. Fraser took a deep breath, let his head rest against the back of the seat, and feigned sleep.

♦

Ray Vecchio had a mug of coffee in one hand, and a fresh bowl of water in the other, and he was tracking a wolf through his house. ‘Diefenbaker?’ he called. No reply. He was about to try upstairs – though it seemed unlikely the wolf had returned to Ray’s bedroom for another sleep, as it was past ten in the morning – when it occurred to Ray to try out the front.

Sure enough, the wolf was sitting on the steps, looking down the road, alert and obviously waiting for Benton Fraser’s return. It was a dull rainy day, though it seemed dry and comfortable enough on the veranda.

Ray juggled the bowl and the mug, and opened the door. ‘I know, Dief. I hate waiting, too.’ He put the bowl down in front of the wolf, sat next to him on the steps. ‘But Benny won’t be back until this evening. We’ll go meet him, what do you say? You, me and half the police force. Can’t afford to mess this one up.’

The wolf was watching the cop closely.

‘Yeah, I admit it, I’m worried. What about you? This was all my idea, that’s the worst thing. Guess I’d feel better worrying at the station, but the Lieutenant said I was driving everybody crazy, and I should just stay home this morning. Let them get on with setting it up. What do you think, Dief? You reckon he’ll be all right?’

Impossible to read the response, but the animal wasn’t exactly fretting.

‘You’re right – of course he’ll be fine. Like I told the Lieutenant, Benny’s the best law enforcement officer in this whole damned city. He’s also…’ Ray sighed, looked out at the endless drizzle, and began again. ‘Dief, maybe it’s time we had a man-to-wolf talk. I hope there’s room in your world for me and Benny, because I want to be there. Lifetimes, he said. Lifetimes. Do you have a problem with that?’

Ray considered the wolf, and was considered in turn.

‘You know what my ambition is right now? Other than having him back here safely, and that scum Angeletti arrested, of course.’ Ray took a breath. ‘I figured I better warn you, Dief. I want to break through to him – you know, get past all that reserve. I want to make him feel me. I want him to yell out – but if he does, I don’t want you coming to his rescue, all right? You have to trust me, trust I won’t hurt him.’

Diefenbaker was still watching him, a curious intelligence in his eerie light blue eyes.

‘You understand, don’t you? You’re a wolf of the world, you know what’s what.’ Silence, of course. Ray looked away, swallowed the last of his coffee, put the mug down and rubbed his hands back along his thighs. ‘I love him so much, Dief. I know he loves me, too, but I’m not – He has passion in him, for living and for loving, but I’m not enough to get through to him. I’m really not good enough for him. I don’t know whether to be glad he’s ended up in love with me, or to wish he’d find someone better for his sake.’ A moment, and then Ray sourly answered himself, ‘Huh. I guess he’s stuck with me, and we’ll all just have to live with it.’

‘Oh, Ray. Of course you’re good enough for him.’ Which was Francesca speaking, and not the wolf.

Ray found himself in his sister’s embrace – she was crouched behind him, her arms around his chest. He closed his eyes, leaned back a little, with his hands on hers. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said simply.

Perhaps she was weeping, but she seemed as sure and determined as she’d ever been. ‘You’re a good man, Ray Vecchio, and don’t you forget it. Benton’s lucky to have you.’

‘I didn’t mean for you to hear – Are you all right?’ Ray asked.

‘Yes. Yes, I will be. This family, we have to start feeling better about ourselves. You let him love you, Ray, because you _are_ good enough. And me, I’m good enough to quit hurting for something that’s impossible.’

‘Francesca –’

‘Don’t tell me you’re sorry again. You’ve nothing to be sorry about, everything to be glad about. I’m going to go find someone who’s good enough for me. And he’ll be –’

But it seemed she wasn’t quite ready yet to imagine what this paragon of manhood would be like. Perhaps it would be a little while until he no longer wore Benny’s handsome form, bore his sweet manner. Ray said, ‘I love you, Francesca.’

‘I love you, too, brother.’ She sighed. ‘But I’ve got to know one thing. When you warned me how useless it was to love him, that night at the police station, were you already with him?’

‘Oh,’ he said, stricken. ‘That’s hard, Francesca.’

‘A _yes_ or a _no_ will do.’

‘It isn’t that simple. We’d – we’d spent a night together a couple of weeks before that. But I didn’t think I had a chance. I thought you and I were both going to break our hearts over him. I was telling you the same thing I was telling myself. Only –’

‘Only you got lucky,’ she said flatly.

‘If you want to put it that way.’

‘Only – he fell in love with you. Maybe he was already in love with you, and you didn’t realise.’ 

‘Maybe,’ Ray agreed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. You were thinking of me, not just of yourself. I knew that already. I guess I just wanted to hear it.’

With its usual poor timing, Ray’s cell phone rang. Keeping his sister there with one hand, he slid the phone out of his hip pocket, and flipped it open. ‘Vecchio here.’

It was Detective Chong Li from Florida. ‘I thought you should know. The word’s out that Mark Craven is dead. One of the cops working the investigation let it slip last night. He was talking to a journalist.’

‘Last night?’ Ray repeated, too numb to be horrified yet.

‘I don’t know how fast the news will travel, whether they’ll make a big deal out of it or not. Is that going to be a problem your end?’

_Oh my God. Benny._ Somehow Ray said nothing more than, ‘Yes. I’ll phone you back.’ He terminated the call, stood up. Planted an absent kiss on Francesca’s cheek. ‘Dief, let’s go.’

‘Take care of him,’ his sister whispered, apparently reading the worst from his pale face.

Ray nodded. And then he ran through the rain to the Riviera, the wolf at his side. Someone down the street turned their radio loud as a wistful song began.

_every generation_  
blames the one before  
and all of their frustrations  
come beating on your door  
I know that I’m a prisoner  
to all my father held so dear  
I know that I’m a hostage  
to all his hopes and fears  
I just wish I could have told him  
in the living years

Carrying a briefcase he believed contained payment for the guns, Fraser walked into the Chicago delicatessen, followed by the man who may be named Bob. ‘Good morning, Mr Angeletti,’ Fraser said as cheerfully as possible. Given that he hadn’t slept for over twenty-eight hours, and he’d been in a stressful situation for almost as long, his greeting no doubt lacked a certain enthusiasm.

It certainly wasn’t received well. Angeletti sat at the same table, in the same chair, surrounded by the same goons. They were all tense and wary, though – far more so than the first time Fraser had visited them. Bob hovered somewhere behind Fraser, just outside his line of sight, no doubt intending to discomfort him further.

Everyone waited until a regular customer was served her pastrami and jarlsberg on sourdough, and then the young man from behind the counter walked out the front door, flipping the open sign to closed as he went. Hunched under the eaves to shelter from the rain, the young man lit a cigarette, oblivious to what might transpire in the back of the shop.

‘I believe this is yours,’ Fraser said in the silence, stepping forward to place the briefcase on the table.

No one moved.

Finally Angeletti asked, ‘Who the Hell _are_ you?’

Fraser frowned in consideration. ‘What can I say that I haven’t told you before?’

‘Do you know what my newspaper clipping service sent me today? Something with Mark Craven’s name in it. He’s dead.’

Fraser carefully didn’t react. He thought briefly of pretending a lover’s shock and grief, but felt it was too late for that. These people were already too suspicious of him. Silence seemed the best policy at this stage.

_‘Who are you?’_ Angeletti thundered. The goons were growing twitchy. Fraser stared somewhere else entirely. Two loudspeakers over the booths were broadcasting a song of regret.

_more crumpled bits of paper_  
filled with imperfect thought  
stilted conversations  
I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got  
you say you just don’t see it  
he says it’s perfect sense  
you just can’t get agreement  
in this present tense  
we all talk a different language  
talking in defence

Ray sped through the wet streets, heading for the police station, and cursing the other drivers who were inevitably more numerous and more stupid on this rainy day. Diefenbaker sat beside him, alert and restless.

Picking up the CB handset when he had a moment, Ray contacted the police station and was patched through to the Lieutenant. ‘Someone let slip that Mark Craven’s dead,’ Ray told him in urgent tones. ‘If Angeletti’s heard that, then he knows Fraser’s been lying. God knows where the Mountie is right now, but –’

‘Slow down, Vecchio.’

‘But he’s in danger, sir!’

‘I know. Shut up for a minute! Remember the Mountie gave you the licence number for the van? It crossed the border early this morning. They only just got around to telling us.’

‘How early?’ Ray demanded.

‘Too early,’ was the flat response. ‘He might be in Chicago already.’

‘Oh God, he’s hours ahead of us. I’m going to the deli.’ Ray had already spun the car around, and now sped off in a new direction. ‘Send back up!’ he told the Lieutenant.

His heart was pounding. Had Angeletti told Fraser to drive back immediately before or after Angeletti had heard about Mark? Was Fraser at the deli yet, and if so what were they – 

Ray shuddered, closed his eyes for a brief moment. Diefenbaker barked once, as if to warn him to stay focused. ‘It’s all right, Dief, it’ll be fine, you’ll see.’ But the muttered reassurance sounded ludicrous even to his own ears. Ray reached over and turned the radio up loud just as the choir kicked in on the chorus.

_say it loud, say it clear_  
you can listen as well as you hear  
it’s too late when we die  
to admit we don’t see eye to eye

‘You’re a cop, aren’t you,’ Angeletti demanded. It wasn’t quite a question, but the Italian obviously had some doubts as well. Fraser wasn’t the petty criminal John Benedict, but apparently he didn’t quite fit Angeletti’s idea of a police officer, either.

No response.

‘Let’s just kill him, boss.’

‘We will, very soon. But not here and not yet.’ Angeletti considered Fraser for a long moment. ‘We can do this the hard way, Benedict. The messy way. If that’s how you want it. I don’t know, I think I’d want to leave this world with a little more dignity than that. I wouldn’t want my last moments to be nothing more than pain. Any animal knows what pain is. But only a man is capable of grace and dignity. For the sake of your own peace, tell me who you are.’

Fraser stood, absolutely unmoved.

_so we open up a quarrel_  
between the present and the past  
we only sacrifice the future  
it’s the bitterness that lasts  
so don’t yield to the fortunes  
you sometimes see his face  
it may have a new perspective  
on a different day  
and if you don’t give up, and don’t give in  
you may just be OK

Ray pushed the Riviera, knowing how to coax the best performance from it. But the Saturday morning traffic was terrible, and the rain meant he couldn’t take quite as many risks as usual, despite the new tyres he’d had fitted.

‘Dear God in Heaven, don’t let me be too late.’ He glanced at the wolf, who stirred anxiously. ‘We’ll get there in time, don’t worry, Dief. God, the first time in my life I have a chance for something like happy ever after, and I might lose him – and it was all my stupid idea.’

The music built, and Ray’s heart pounded with it. The red police light flashed eerily against the windshield. Everything happened – the planet turned and the rain fell and the car flew – all in slow motion.

‘It’s not going to be too late,’ the cop prayed.

_say it loud, say it clear_  
you can listen as well as you hear  
because it’s too late when we die  
to admit we don’t see eye to eye

There didn’t seem to be any point in fighting – there were too many of them, and all with guns. If any of the goons felt threatened by him, Fraser couldn’t rely on them obeying Angeletti’s instruction not to kill him here and now. Apart from which, perhaps all Fraser had left in this world was time. So he didn’t fight, and he didn’t speak.

The goon who was hitting Fraser apparently knew what he was doing. He alternated swings to Fraser’s jaw with punches to his stomach. It was a painful business – sharp and localised at times, dull and throbbing at others. The two goons who held him upright were rough and impatient. Bob smoked a cigarette.

_Ray,_ Fraser found time to reflect, _is going to loathe himself for this._ Yes, the cop would hate himself with a vengeance, and that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t a fair way to end their love. Their brave fledgling attempt at love.

‘We’ll kill you anyway,’ Angeletti informed him conversationally. ‘I’d like to know who you are first, of course. It would help if I knew how much heat you’ll bring me. But if you don’t talk soon, we’ll take you out back, and shoot you, and dump you in the trash. Talk now, and the pain will stop.’

Fraser couldn’t help but wince as another blow landed in his stomach. One of the goons who held him jabbed a fist into his lower back. Fraser was only thankful that, unlike the last time, no one was using brass knuckles.

‘Who the Hell are you, John Benedict? You’re not long for this world, but there’s time for a last confession.’

Maybe he’d been hit in the head once too often, for everything was muted. Angeletti was talking from miles away. Only the song reached Fraser through the pain, adding an almost unbearable poignancy.

Ray liked this song, though he seemed blissfully unaware of its personal significance. Every time a college radio station played it, Ray would turn it up loud and warble along. Fraser hung onto the melody in much the same way as he imagined a drowning man clutched at straws. _I’m sorry, Ray._

_I wasn’t there that morning_  
when my father passed away  
I didn’t get to tell him  
all the things I had to say  
I think I caught his spirit  
later that same year  
I’m sure I heard his echo  
in my baby’s new born tears  
I just wish I could have told him  
in the living years

Ray screeched to a halt outside the delicatessen, abandoned the Riviera to the consequences of double-parking, and hit the sidewalk at a run, the wolf beside him. A kid was standing outside the deli, smoking a cigarette – he lifted his head, looked at Ray with narrowed eyes, and then turned and walked away.

Yes, there were men inside, in the dimness up the back. Someone was being worked over. Fraser. The front door – all glass – appeared to be locked, or at least solidly closed. In any case, Ray felt a dramatic entrance was required.

He sent a bullet up into the glass, stepped through and strode crunching to within ten feet of the ensemble, gun at arm’s length and resolutely aimed. Diefenbaker was growling, very low. While all the goons were armed, none had a gun in hand, and all were startled. Fraser was no longer being hit. So far, so good.

‘Hands in the air!’ Ray yelled. ‘You’re all under arrest.’ He tracked his gun from chest to chest, focused on their faces for any hint of trouble.

One of the goons tentatively lifted his hands. None of the others moved.

‘Get over here, Fraser. The cavalry’s arrived.’

The Mountie hauled himself upright, tried to take a step – but one of the goons didn’t let him go.

The wolf’s growl turned nasty, and it seemed he was barely holding himself back.

‘What do you think, Dief?’ It was more than apparent what the wolf thought – he was restless, angry, wanting to bite something. Ray commented, ‘I think he’s wondering what Italian mobster tastes like.’

The Mountie was free to move. Obviously stiff and sore, he backed away until he stood beside the cop and the wolf.

‘Now,’ Ray said. ‘I want you all to take your guns and drop them to the floor. Any of you makes a suspicious move, you get a bullet from me, or you lose a chunk of flesh to the wolf. All right? And I should warn you that he’s wild and I’m crazy. Nice and easy, gentlemen, drop the guns to the floor.’

Angeletti said, ‘What’s to stop us from simply walking out of here?’

‘Half the Chicago PD will be here momentarily, hoping they have a lunch date. They might take offence at you leaving early.’

Taking a step back, Angeletti seemed intent on reaching the door behind him. ‘You’re not going to stop me. Vecchio, isn’t it? You don’t have the nerve.’

‘Try me.’

‘Actually, Ray,’ the Mountie said, ‘I don’t believe you can shoot him if you’re not in immediate danger or you’re not protecting anyone else. That wouldn’t be a justifiable use of force.’

‘Shut up, Fraser.’

‘This a friend of yours?’ Angeletti asked. ‘Tell me who he is.’

‘He’s a Canadian Mountie. You should have believed him the first time.’

‘Quite an impressive fellow. Odd, but impressive. Too good for that rat Craven, and far too good for you, Vecchio.’ 

‘Just shut up!’ Ray cried out. ‘And don’t move.’

A turbulent moment. At last the sound of sirens.

Angeletti backed away again.

Ray fired a warning shot past Angeletti’s shoulder. Scattered reflections of red and blue flashing lights, screeching tyres on wet asphalt.

The goons visibly sagged.

The rest of the cavalry had arrived. Tardy, but in the event effective. Ray heaved a relieved sigh, and told his heart to quit pounding. The song repeated the chorus, and began fading away.

_say it loud, say it clear_  
you can listen as well as you hear  
it’s too late when we die  
to admit we don’t see eye to eye

Arrests had been made, compliments both direct and backhanded had been bantered about. Ray found himself to be more interested in Fraser’s well-being than in the rare feeling of being respected. Admired. After half an hour of observation, paramedics at the scene pronounced Fraser fit to go, so long as he rested. Ray had already decided to take him home.

Louie sauntered by. ‘So Dudley Do-Right was the one who needed rescuing for once.’

Ray warned him –’Don’t even think about it.’ 

Huey did, however, not only think about it but say it. ‘Well done, Penelope.’

‘Never fear, we got Dick Dastardly for you while you were wringing your hands over Dudley’s injuries.’

‘That’s _my_ collar,’ Ray said heatedly. ‘Mine and Fraser’s.’

‘Yeah, sure, Penelope.’

The Lieutenant walked past. ‘It’s your collar, Vecchio. Good work.’

Ray could feel himself glowing, not giving a damn about the ever drizzling rain. And then Fraser and Diefenbaker were standing beside him. ‘Congratulations, Ray,’ the Mountie said.

‘Couldn’t have done it without you.’ Ray took another look around, and then his gaze returned to Fraser’s pale and beaten face. The fellow would have some terrible bruises. Ray sighed, and let the glory go. Other things were more important – and, now he thought of it, more glorious. ‘Come on, Benny. I’m taking you home.’

‘Yes. Though I’d understand if you wanted to follow through on the case instead.’

‘Come home, Benny,’ Ray said firmly. Fondly. God, the Mountie brought out the sap in him.

A few words to the Lieutenant, and then Ray was driving Fraser and Diefenbaker back to the Vecchio home. The Mountie protested once, politely insisting that he could manage well enough at his own apartment, though he was obviously weakening. In fact, by the time they reached their destination, Fraser wasn’t able to negotiate the front steps without Ray’s support.

Ray’s mother and sister came out of the house, but didn’t start fussing – whether that was luck or a continuing awe of the Mountie, Ray didn’t know. ‘Ma, he’s all right. He just got beat up some.’

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Vecchio, Francesca,’ Fraser said, voice betraying a hint of strain. He had an arm around Ray’s shoulders now, entrusting his balance to his friend.

Francesca held the door open for them, hung back out of the way. ‘Are you sure he’s all right, Ray?’ she asked quietly. Diefenbaker trotted in, attention fixed on the Mountie, and Francesca closed the door on the world outside.

‘Yeah, he got the all clear from the ambulance guys. Ma, I’m going to put him to bed, my bed, is that OK? I didn’t want to leave him at his place, there’s no one to take care of him there.’

‘Of course that’s all right, _caro_.’

Ray guided Fraser over to the stairs, arm still around the man’s waist. His mother insisted on accompanying them, and of course the wolf followed as well. Francesca watched the procession for a moment, and then turned away and headed for the kitchen. Fraser, gentleman that he was, let Ray’s mother hold his free hand.

Once they’d reached the bedroom Ray drew off the fellow’s jacket, belt and shoes, and then with a sigh Fraser lay back on the bed, on top of the covers. It seemed he slipped off into sleep immediately. Diefenbaker sat on the floor close by, and settled, apparently worried no more. They were home.

‘Will Benton be warm enough?’

‘Yeah, Ma,’ Ray replied, not explaining how he knew this. He’d found that the Mountie needed very few coverings when he slept, perhaps because he was used to living outside in all weathers. In fact Fraser had told Ray that, as the cop slept so warmly, the Mountie might never again need anything more than Ray’s body-heat in his arms.

Ray stood there looking down at the fellow. God had given Fraser a beautiful face. The most regular and handsome features that Ray had ever seen – but there was something else as well, perhaps the hint of the wilds, that created beauty. Benton Fraser was not after all a regular person. So many surprises in him, enough to keep someone fascinated for lifetimes. Ray sighed, and tried to concentrate on mundane details. The left side of Fraser’s mouth was swelling already, and there were abrasions all along his left jaw. ‘This was all my fault,’ Ray muttered.

His mother drew the curtains, and the room darkened even further. She stood at the door for a while, apparently content to wait. Ray pulled the chair over closer, and sat at the foot of the bed, facing Benny. They both listened to him breathing, easy and even. The wolf was asleep, as well.

‘Are you all right, _caro_? Were you hurt?’

‘No, I wasn’t hurt, Ma. I’m fine.’ He sighed, almost laughed. Simple to say in the dimness, ‘I’m really fine, Ma. Never been finer. I love him.’ 

‘I know, Raymond. We all do. The weak people of the world will resent him, but the strong people like you, _caro_, can’t help but love him.’

‘No, Ma,’ he said, and he did laugh this time. She wouldn’t understand – at least, not yet. ‘I _love_ him.’

‘I know,’ she simply repeated. She walked over, patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, let him kiss her cheek, and left the room.

Ray sat there for a while, wondering if he’d just come out to his mother, and figuring it probably went all right if so. The rain poured down outside, settling in for the long haul.

That even breathing continued, peaceful. Blessed and blessing. And then, out of nowhere, the Mountie’s quiet voice said, ‘Ray.’

‘What, Benny? Are you all right?’

‘I wanted to tell you that you’re a stronger person than your father. You’re fairer and kinder and more loving. A better family man, a better partner. And that’s all right, Ray, it’s all right to be stronger than him. You don’t have to live up to him, or down to him, or because of him. You just need to _live_, Ray.’

Sitting there in the dimness, something in Ray Vecchio floated utterly free and away. Something hard in him broke open in the warmth, and it didn’t even hurt. He sat up straighter, taller, easier. He whispered, ‘Thank you, Benny.’

‘Well,’ Fraser continued, with a hint of unexpected amusement, ‘for my next trick, I’d like –’

‘You’re beginning to talk like me,’ Ray warned him.

‘I’d like you to rely more on your own opinion of yourself than on my opinion of you.’

‘Yeah? I guess if you think I’m wonderful, I can live with it. Will that do for now?’

‘Yes. But it is only the beginning.’

‘Give me time. _Convince_ me I’m wonderful,’ Ray added with a laugh. ‘I’ll allow you one lifetime, no more.’

‘All right,’ the Mountie agreed.

‘Meanwhile…’ The cop frowned, not having thought to put this into words. ‘Yeah, I need to live, but it’s time for you to live, too, Benny. It’s time for you to take your emotions as seriously as your reason. Your pleasure as seriously as your ethics. I can help you with that, if you’ll trust me enough.’

Silence for a time, and that even breathing. Ray assumed the fellow had fallen asleep, and perhaps hadn’t even heard him. But eventually Fraser said, ‘Is it possible to begin now? Your family –’

‘They’re all right. Or they will be. I figure they love you too much to mind about us being together.’

‘And they love you,’ Fraser reminded him. 

‘Yeah, they do.’

‘Perhaps you could come here and hold me. Carefully.’

‘Gently,’ Ray whispered, moving to do so. He shucked off his shoes and jacket, lay down and let the Mountie shift into his embrace. Sweetness, yes, with a depth to it that was almost frightening. ‘You know this already, but I have to say it because I’m a traditional kind of man at heart. And an absolute sap. I love you, Benny.’

‘Yes. I love you, and one day you’ll know that.’

‘It’s not you I doubt,’ Ray quickly protested.

The Mountie hushed him. Kissed the cop lightly with his bruised lips, manner full of quiet serious joy. And Ray Vecchio let another handful of his fears and regrets float free. Benton Fraser at last fell asleep.

♦


End file.
